Little Lady Agency and The Prince (17 page)

As I hurried through the foyer, anxious not to leave Nicky alone for too long, I couldn’t help glancing into the mirrors and reflective surfaces as I passed, and each time was quite startled by the confident blonde glancing flirtatiously back.

Startled in a good way, though.

I reached the cordoned-off area where people were drinking blue cocktails, and scanned the crowd. Gabi and Aaron were standing right next to a massive anchor-shaped vodka luge, to which Gabi kept pointing excitedly and from which Aaron kept topping up his glass. Of the three outfits she’d bought at Selfridges, Gabi had opted for the very small gold halter-neck dress and matching Gina sandals, and had forced Aaron into his black tie.

Aaron Jacobs was a futures trader in the City. He worked fifteen-hour days, earned more money than he had time to spend and adored Gabi, in much the same way that a crocodile loves the little bird that perches on his snout and picks bits out of his teeth.

Aaron had never seen me in my wig and so didn’t recognise me when I leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

‘Gabi, seriously, I have no idea . . .’ he started, turning white underneath his tan.

‘It’s Mel, you plank,’ she said, swatting him with her teeny evening bag. ‘Ooh, you look nice,’ she added, turning to me. ‘Is that from your prince-managing dress allowance?’

‘No, it’s my own, this time. Any sign of Nicolas?’ I asked, checking the crowd. ‘We came together but he legged it inside and I can’t see him.’

‘No, but your friend Leonie’s already here,’ said Gabi. ‘Nelson did that whole “Ah, hello, you must be Leonie” routine, and the pair of them went off to check that the raffle sales girls understood exactly what they were doing with the credit card machines and could balance the float.’

So they were bonding already over financial details. ‘Excellent!’ I said. ‘And Roger? You know he’s bringing this mysterious new girlfriend of his?’

Gabi shook her head. ‘No sign. I can’t wait to meet Zara. What do you reckon? Short and so posh she’s her own half-cousin? Or fat and grateful?’

‘She’s a model,’ I reminded her.

‘So Roger says,’ she sniffed. ‘How many models has he met? She could be a hand model for H. Samuel for all he knows.’

‘How about tall and gorgeous?’ suggested Aaron.

Gabi and I both snorted with sarcastic amusement.

‘No, baby,’ said Gabi. ‘
Blind
and gorgeous, maybe.’

Aaron said nothing, but carried on staring over our shoulders with such intensity we were compelled to turn round.

Moving slowly through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea to let them through, came Roger, miraculously shaved and coiffed but still sporting his father’s moth-eaten old dinner jacket, thank God. On his arm, and getting all the attention, was a tawny-blonde gazelle-woman in a dress even smaller than Gabi’s. And since she was getting on for six foot, compared with Gabi’s five foot one, there was a lot more of her to cover.

‘Noooo,’ breathed Gabi.

‘Yessss,’ breathed Aaron, and got another swat for his trouble.

‘Roger!’ I said, since he was now in earshot. ‘Don’t you look marvellous! And you must be Zara!’ I extended my hand towards her. ‘What a beautiful dress!’

Her huge brown eyes went panicky, then she smiled hopefully at me, said, ‘Please!’ and she shook my hand, hard.

‘Zara’s Uzbekistani,’ said Roger. ‘She doesn’t speak much English, I’m afraid.’

‘She doesn’t need to,’ said Aaron. ‘I mean, I bet she, er, makes herself understood well enough.’

‘Aaron,’ snapped Gabi.

‘Zara, this is my friend
Melissa
,’ Roger said, pointing to me and speaking very slowly. ‘And
Gabi
, and
Aaron
.’ He reached into his dinner jacket, took out a tiny dictionary, and proceeded to hack up phlegm in her direction, which elicited a shy nod.

‘Challo,’ said Zara carefully. When she smiled, she looked like a baby giraffe, with her big eyes, and her ludicrously long arms and legs.

‘Hello!’ we all cried, too enthusiastically.

‘And I’m Prince Nicolas of Hollenberg,’ smarmed a voice from behind my shoulder. ‘
Hello.
’

‘Chall-
o,
’ replied Zara, her eyes glazing.

The word ‘prince’ seemed to have leaped over the language barrier easily enough.

Nicky’s arrival sent a little electric current through everyone. I could see Gabi positively quivering with excitement, and after a second or two of hot glances passing between Nicky and Zara, she couldn’t hold herself back any longer. ‘Hello, your highness,’ she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake. ‘I’m Gabi. Melissa’s friend.’

Without missing a beat, Nicky took her fingers, pressed them to his lips and said, ‘Lovely to meet you, Gabi.’

At this point Gabi nearly passed out with joy and even I had to admit I was impressed. Only Roger looked a bit sick.

‘She’s told me all about you,’ she said, nodding towards me.

‘Well, I hope she hasn’t told you anything about me,’ he drawled back, in a way that suggested he hoped very much everyone had been talking about him, for hours at least.

‘No!’ squeaked Gabi. Honestly, her voice had gone up a whole octave. I gave her a ‘Stop it!’ look. Nicky wasn’t
that
famous. How was I going to bring him down a peg or two if every woman he met acted like he was the most thrilling thing they’d seen since the first day of the Harvey Nicks’ sale?

Roger was casting despairing looks towards Zara, trying to catch her eye, but she was as star-struck by Nicky as Gabi was. I gave him a gentle nudge, but he only turned to me with a glum expression.

‘Come on, Rog,’ I hissed. ‘Say something to her!’

‘Like what?’ he hissed back, as Nicky admired Zara’s necklace rather too closely.

‘Like . . . Shall we go through to dinner,
darling
?’

I noticed for the first time that Nicolas hadn’t finished dressing properly in his rush to leave the flat. His shirt was open at the neck, with the tie undone, and his jacket hung open to show off the gaudy orange lining. His tan was honey-bronze against the whiteness of the dress shirt, and I could see a fine gold chain like a gossamer thread glittering in the dark hairs. Even as I was noting how tacky that was, a different part of my brain couldn’t help melting at the exact same tackiness. He was the magazine illustration of ‘playboy prince’ and suddenly, in a social arena, he seemed more seductive than ever. He even smelled glamorous.

As he winked at Zara and Gabi’s forehead creased in combined disapproval and lust, I battened down the rising tide of nerves that seemed to have bubbled up in me. If Roger wasn’t going to step in and tackle this shameless routine, I would.

First thing, Mel, don’t let him see you’re nervous, I told myself.

‘Would you like some help with your bow tie?’ I asked politely. ‘It’s customary to start the evening with them done up.’

‘Are you angling to do it for me?’ he replied, with a lazy wink. ‘You don’t have to make excuses to get up close and personal, you know,
Honey
. Just say the word.’

‘Not at all,’ I replied, tingling slightly at the suggestive way he’d said ‘Honey’. ‘I thought perhaps you might be more used to the ready-tied type.’

Without letting his eyes move from mine, Nicolas grabbed the ends of the tie and knotted it into a perfect bow in a few swift movements.

‘I’ve done it a lot,’ he explained patronisingly. ‘Over the years.’

I wished I wasn’t impressed by that awful sort of showing-off, but I couldn’t help it: I was.

Not that I intended to let him see. ‘I see you’ve introduced yourself to the girls in our party but have you met Roger Trumpet?’ I asked coolly. ‘Zara’s
boyfriend
. And this is Aaron Jacobs, Gabi’s
fiancé
.’

‘I’m sure we’re all going to get on like a house on fire,’ he said, looking exclusively at Zara.

‘She’s Uzbekistani,’ explained Roger. ‘So talk slowly.’

Nicolas threw his hands in the air. ‘Why didn’t you say?’ he cried, and rattled off a lot of what I took to be Uzbekistani. I didn’t get to see Zara’s reaction, though I heard some tinkly laughter, because by then Nicolas had swept her off into the dining room, one hand moving dangerously close to her tiny model-like bottom.

Roger, Gabi, Aaron and I were left staring at each other.

‘Go on, Roger!’ I urged. ‘After him!’

‘What’s the point?’ he moaned, slumping against a pillar as if he’d just been mugged. ‘Do you know how long it took me to learn “you look nice” in Uzbekistani? Might as well just go home now.’

‘Roger, you’re a . . .’ I racked my brains for something encouraging but, at the same time, true. ‘You’re a decent chap, and he’s a lounge lizard!’

‘And
what
a lounge lizard,’ breathed Gabi longingly.

I glared at her, then at Roger.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ I spluttered, and went after them myself. I used my best ‘wiggling through a crowded restaurant’ skills to ensure I reached the table first and prevented Nicky from rearranging the seating plan, plonking myself firmly down on his left, and saving the other side for Gabi. The others followed behind like ducklings.

‘You’re very keen,’ said Nicky with a raised eyebrow, as Roger helped Zara rather emphatically to a bread roll.

‘Just keen to keep an eye on you,’ I said, reaching for the water jug.

‘That’s what I thought,’ he replied. ‘Do play a little harder to get.’

‘No, that’s not what . . .’ I started, then stopped. If there was one thing I’d learned from my Honey experiences, it was that flustered reactions only encouraged men like Nicolas.

I smiled blandly at him instead, and he made a big show of checking his watch.

‘I’m loving the decor,’ said Gabi, looking around. ‘Aaron, what do you reckon about these chairs for our marquee?’

It was easy to see where Nelson’s financial nightmares had sprung from: entire ships could have been built more cheaply. There were vast blue and white floral arrangements everywhere, twinkling fairy lights wrapped round every vertical point, not to mention the giant ice sculpture of HMS
Victory
at the far end.

Just as Gabi was on the point of turning the chairs over to find out where they’d been hired from, Nelson arrived himself, followed by Leonie Hargreaves. She was exactly as I’d remembered – brown hair, nice figure, Laura Ashley frock. To be honest, I was quite relieved: having pitched her to Nelson as a perfectly charming, normal woman, I’d half expected her to have undergone some drastic transformation into a sex kitten.

She hadn’t. And from the way she was regaling Nelson with tales of double-entry book-keeping exams, it was clear she hadn’t changed her hobbies much either.

I quickly made another round of introductions, and at once I could sense a shiver of something untoward between Nicky and Nelson. My heart sank. It was bad enough listening to Nelson’s chuntering about ‘real’ princes versus made-up playboy ones without having Nicky taking agin Nelson as well.

It probably didn’t help that the second I’d introduced them, Nicky leaned over to Zara and quite obviously stared down her dress, gabbling something in a language I couldn’t make out, apart from the words ‘tit tape’, followed by a dirty wink.

‘What did you just say?’ demanded Nelson.

‘I was asking Zara how she’s keeping her dress up,’ replied Nicky smoothly.

‘Surely that’s for her to know and
Roger
to find out?’ said Nelson, with a meaningful look. ‘And if you ask me—’

‘Well, let’s hope whatever it is holds firm, or we’ll
all
be finding out!’ I said merrily. ‘Nicolas,’ I went on, to drag his attention away from Zara, ‘are your friends still coming?’

‘Oh, God, no point waiting for Pig,’ said Nicky, pouring himself a large glass of wine. ‘She’s always late for stuff. And last time I spoke to Chunder he was in Moreton-in-Marsh, so he might be late too.’

‘When was that?’ I asked.

‘About an hour ago? But don’t worry, he’s got a very fast car, and only six points on his licence at the moment. Chill out,’ he added, seeing my wide eyes.

‘Is this them?’ asked Gabi as two figures barged between the tables.

‘Yup,’ said Nicky, standing up and waving. ‘Oi, Pig!’ he yelled, smirking as everyone turned round to look at him.

‘I think they’ve spotted us, Nicolas,’ I said. ‘And everyone’s spotted you too, so you can sit down.’

He sat down.

Roger, Nelson and Aaron rose to their feet as Nicky’s friends approached, not that Imogen made any acknowledgement of their gesture.

‘God,’ she sighed. ‘I hope this isn’t going to take too long – I’m bored already and I’ve only handed my coat in.’

I shot a glance at Nicky, to prompt him to introduce us. He raised his eyebrows back.

‘Go on,’ I hissed, suddenly realising he’d probably already forgotten what everyone was called.

Gabi and Zara were looking expectant.

I pressed my lips tightly together. I’d told him everyone’s names, twice. People were always going to remember him, on account of the prince thing; that made it even more important that he learned to remember theirs.

To my surprise, Nicky read my look, and cleared his throat. ‘Um, Pig, Chunder, this is Honey, um . . .’

‘Aaah,’ I hummed helpfully, as he looked blankly at Aaron.

‘. . . Adam?’

I glared at him, and he quickly amended it to, ‘Abel . . . no, Aaron. Aaron.’

‘Gaaaaah,’ I prompted.

‘Are you OK, Melissa?’ asked Nelson, and I nodded.

‘Gabi,’ said Nicky, shooting me a look. ‘How could I forget Gabi?’

Gabi looked on the verge of swooning.

‘Gabi, Zara and, er, Richard . . . ?’

‘Roger,’ I said brightly. I noticed he didn’t seem to have the same trouble with the girls’ names.

‘Roger, and Leonie?’

Nicky stopped very obviously as he turned to Nelson. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve completely forgotten your name.’

‘Nelson,’ snapped Nelson. ‘If you forget again, there’s a large visual clue on the stage.’

‘You’re a florist?’

‘No,’ said Nelson, turning purple. ‘HMS
Victory
.’